


Knocks and Bumps

by nileflood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Car Accidents, M/M, Teacher Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nileflood/pseuds/nileflood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little ficlet about how Castiel, elementary teacher in a small town, falls for the man who knocks him off his bike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knocks and Bumps

Castiel is the elementary teacher that rides an old-fashioned bike to school every day. Not one of those crazy penny-farthing types, but a little old bicycle with a bell and a basket in the front that carries his papers and his lunch and he rides down the main street and waves and smiles at people- it’s one of the everyday sights in their little town. He always gets into school early, sets up his lessons and then makes a cup of tea as he waits for the children to arrive.

No one can remember a time he was late. He always sees the dentist and the doctor after school, he doesn’t interrupt his classes and he’s never ill. It just never happens. So when a little girl knocks on Anna’s door one day- she teaches the slightly older class across the corridor- and says Mr Castiel isn’t in yet, Anna worries. All her class crane their necks too, whisper amongst themselves because Mr Castiel taught them too, and he was always there. 

The little girl is clearly upset, so Anna gently herds her back into the right class-room, to sit with her friends on one of the beanbags and fetches her cell phone from her purse. There are no messages, but she didn’t think there would be. She’s never seen Castiel with a cell phone, she doesn’t think he has one. “Stay here class, I’ll be right back."

She goes to the office, gets the secretary to call Castiel at home, but it just rings and rings and rings. Then they call the sheriff, because goodness only knows what might have happened.

He’s cycling down the same narrow little road he’s cycled down every day, day in, day out for the past… well, all his life. He lives in the same house he was born in, on the outskirts of town. He cycles through the last little bit of countryside before the houses start, then towards Main Street and then down towards the school. There’s never traffic, there aren’t enough cars in town for there to be traffic. It’s wonderful, not to worry about that sort of thing, the sort of problems that happen in towns where you don’t know everyone on sight and they don’t know you.

That was when the car clipped him. It wasn’t there one moment, the next it was, taking up the whole of his world and making him wobble, and then topple right out of the saddle and onto the ditch at the side of the road. He’s too stunned to feel hurt for a moment, too hurt to really understand what’s happened until there’s a man down in the ditch with him, helping him up. “I didn’t see you, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“What-?” Castiel says, only registering the strong grip of the hand taking his, and the green eyes and dark hair. Then the hand the man’s grip spasms, sending shooting pain all the way to his shoulder.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” The man repeats for maybe the third time. Normally Castiel would rebuke the unnecessary language, but the pain is intense and perhaps this time it is justified. Castiel cradles his arm close to himself, and glances at his bike. It looks a little worse for wear, but he can’t see it properly. His head is spinning.

“Let me drive you to a doctor. You need that arm needs looking at.” The stranger says, and opens the passenger door of the big black car, almost too wide for this country road and that’s probably why he ended up hitting Castiel in the first place. This isn’t a car for country roads.

“Who are you?” Castiel manages, but doesn’t get in.

“Dean. Dean Winchester. I’m sort of new here.”

“I gathered that much.” Castiel replies, “The Doctor’s office is on Main Street. Do you know the way?”

Dean nods, and to Castiel’s surprise, he eases the bike out of the ditch and despite the dirt covering it, manoeuvres it onto the pristine backseat of the car.

As it turns out, Castiel’s arm is fine, but it’s his wrist that’s broken. It isn’t a bad break and it’s soon wrapped and coated in plaster. It’s not the best start to the day, especially when Doctor Milligan tells him to call the school and take the day off. He doesn’t want to, but Doctor Milligan ends up calling for him and preventing him heading in later, she knows what he’s like after all. He can go back tomorrow, she tells him, but he can’t ride the bike until his arm is out of plaster.

“Look, this was my fault.” Dean says, which Castiel completely agrees with. “I’ll drive you home today. And I’ll fix your bike. I think the frame’s a little bent. And until your arm is right, I’ll drive you to work and back.”

It’s a nice offer, and as Castiel can’t drive, and couldn’t drive anyway with his arm in plaster, he accepts. He doesn’t much like Dean, after all, he failed to see him on an otherwise empty road, and he is a stranger in town, but he’s always believed you should give second chances. Dean drives him home from Kate Milligan’s office, and promises to be there at seven on the dot the next morning.

He’s early, actually. Castiel hears the car pull up on the gravel as he’s feeding the cats, and then once that noise is stopped he can hear music. It’s Rock and Roll, from the station a town or two over. He’s not sure he likes it, but Dean turns it off as soon as Castiel appears on the porch.

“Good morning!” Dean calls, and Castiel returns it. The drove to the doctors and back in silence yesterday, but today Dean apparently wants to talk. Not much. He’s just trying to get a conversation started. Has Castiel lived here all his life? Does he really know everyone in town? Castiel answers yes to both and Dean seems surprised with that- but he doesn’t ask any more questions. Castiel makes him stop around the corner from the school. He doesn’t want more cars hanging around, not if Dean is likely to hit someone else, and he doesn’t want to answer questions about the handsome young man driving him into work. Small town’s gossip and he doesn’t want to be the subject of that gossip.

Not that he thinks Dean is handsome.

Dean takes him home again that night, and so on for the next few days. It becomes a week, then two. They talk, Dean’s not so bad, Castiel realises, once his bike is returned to him as good as new, the scratches and dents gone. Apparently Dean likes to fix things, mend things. He’s bought a house further out of town, one that’s been empty for years and he’s doing it up. Castiel admires that- its hard work keeping a house in good repair as it is, it’s even harder to make one habitable. Dean invites him to come over and see it one day, and Castiel surprises himself by accepting.

So instead of turning down the gravel drive that leads to Castiel’s home, one night the next week they drive a little further, maybe a mile or so more down the road until they reach Dean’s place. It was once white, a neat little farm house with an over-grown vegetable garden at one side. There are building supplies out front, mostly delivered from the hardware shop in town Castiel notices, and considering some of the wooden porch is still unpainted, it looks like Dean has already been hard at work. The same inside- old floorboards have been replaced and broken windows repaired. There are boxes neatly piled and furniture covered in dust-sheets. “It’ll look great once it’s done.” Dean tells him, and Castiel believes him. He offers to help paint too, once Dean’s ready. It’s easier with more hands to help, even if Castiel only has one good hand right now. But it’s the neighbourly thing to do.

At the weekend, Castiel comes over. They paint the porch, and then the hall way, and Castiel doesn’t complain that Dean tunes into the Rock station again and sings along under his breath. He does complain when Dean puts a hand covered in paint on the back of his shirt though. They’re meant to be adults, but it quickly descends into flicking paint at each other and breathless laughing. Castiel is still trying to breathe normally when Dean kisses him.

That’s a step too far though, and Castiel pulls away, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Dean swears again, softer this time and Castiel wants to echo the sentiments. Instead of going back to painting, Castiel walks himself home.

The next week is awkward. On Monday morning Dean arrives, and he apologises. Castiel accepts, says not to mention it again. It was a mistake, a stupid one. It wouldn’t have happened if Dean hadn’t cracked open that beer and the fumes had been better ventilated. Dean doesn’t mention it again, but they don’t talk about anything else either. Dean just picks him up, drops him off, and drives him home. They don’t say anything anymore, and it hurts, although Castiel doesn’t understand why. Instead Dean puts the radio on, and Castiel looks out the window.

Castiel’s cast has been on five weeks. It comes off the Thursday of the sixth week, and Castiel has never looked forwards to anything more in his life. He doesn’t want Dean to go, not really. He seems to be settling in well to town- people know him now, people recognise his car and wave to them in the morning as they head down Main Street. But there’s something now in the air between them. Sometimes as they drive he’s sure Dean is paying more attention to him than the road- which got them into this mess in the first place. He can go back to his own routine, get himself to and from work; he can enjoy the wind blowing against him and his own thoughts.

“So… you think you remember how to ride a bike?” Dean asks him on Wednesday evening as they watch the last of the children filter out of the school gates. Castiel smiles to himself, tucking the last few papers into his attaché case.

“Oh, you never forget. But I don’t think I’ll know what to do with two hands.”

Dean snorts, glances back at the empty playground outside. “Cas-“ He begins, and there’s something in that tone that makes all the hair on the back of Castiel’s neck stand up on end. But whatever Dean was going to say, he thinks better of. Instead he says “Do you want me to drive you to Doc Milligan’s?”

Castiel’s heart starts beating again, he wasn’t aware it had stopped. It’s not the question he expected, that he was hoping Dean was going to ask him, but he just nods. “Please. I need to be there at ten.”

Dean gets him there as promised, and as they wait for Kate to be ready Castiel finds himself humming something Dean had been listening to on the drive. Dean is grinning privately, but before anything can be said, Kate calls Castiel in.

When he steps out of the office, his arm feels lighter than he can remember it ever being before. It looks thinner and paler too, but he’d been told to expect that. It’d be right as rain soon, as long as he made sure to use it carefully.

Dean drove him to the school then, so Castiel didn’t miss any more of the day, and drove him home again too at the end. The plan was that Castiel would cycle, but they’d somehow forgotten to load the bike into the car that morning and only realised at lunch. Castiel had to make a rather shy phone call to Dean during recess, asking one last favour. Dean didn’t mind though, and almost seemed to be expecting the call. Had he forgotten on purpose? Castiel doubted it, after all, what would be the point?

But on Friday morning, Castiel was prepared. He was going to get himself to school for the first time in just less than two months. He wasn’t going to see Dean, listen to Rock music or try and catch glances of him when Dean wasn’t looking. He wasn’t going to relax into the upholstery and watch the world go by out of the window.

He had to leave earlier to get to school on time. But he was out of the routine, and he was still drinking his coffee when the clock in the dining room chimed seven. He should have been on his bicycle by now, half way into town. He was going to be late. He stood up fast, feeling the fool and rushed for his case, for his helmet and then for his jacket.

Then there was the noise of a horn from outside.

“Hey, hurry up slow-poke!” Dean shouted, and Castiel pulled open the front door. There was Dean, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. “For old time’s sakes?”

Castiel kisses him, hard. The world feels right that way.


End file.
